


Lost Paradise (Pre-Sequel)

by candidtxt



Series: Fortune's Fools [2]
Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Character Death, M/M, Sad and Happy, Sad with a Happy Ending, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25284028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candidtxt/pseuds/candidtxt
Summary: You mentioned ‘paradise’ all the time. More times in defeat than in hope. No matter how much beauty you were surrounded by, it would never hide the fact that your garden was a prison. There’s a light at the end of the river, you told me once, that’s where we’ll meet again.Is it the afterlife?No. A lost paradise. You corrected me. The paradise that should have been… this place.We never found that paradise.--Two boys cursed to die find comfort in each other's company as they face their curses head on. They spend every moment together fantasizing about a paradise, but only one gets to see the light of day at the expense of the other, and Taehyun wonders if he could have done anything to save Yeonjun, or if Yeonjun ever had any intentions to reach paradise.
Relationships: Choi Beomgyu/Kang Taehyun, Choi Yeonjun/Kang Taehyun
Series: Fortune's Fools [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1831756
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	Lost Paradise (Pre-Sequel)

**Author's Note:**

> \- welcome back! this is the pre-sequel to the first work in this series "A work of art and tragedy" that features new characters and some extra elements   
> \- a pre-sequel are events that happened prior and post the original events   
> \- the work is separated into 3 parts (im sure you can figure out which parts are "pre" and "sequel" lmao)   
> \- thank you so much for reading as always !

PART 1

Death is inevitable. 

Humans become nothing but ashes when their body shuts down. A bird loses its strength to fly and falls to the ground in defeat. A flower wilts and loses its petals. Every living being ceases to exist when the Fates cut their life line. 

But artists don’t die. A bit of their soul lives within the art they’ve created, so after they physically pass away, as long as their art is acknowledged, the artist is alive. And when their art is shunned by the world, the artists die their second, and final death. 

I believe the death of art is a slow one. With every repaint, every recital, every variation, a part of the original art is buried. A face can be repainted in a painting, music can be replayed, a dance can be performed again-- all in efforts to keep its beauty alive. But one day, these art pieces won’t be deemed worthy to be kept alive. Something new will catch people’s attention, they will worship it and shower it with their adoration and praise. People will find something new that speaks to them, and those disregarded will cling onto the hope that  _ someone  _ would rediscover them.

Otherwise, we all plummet into history. We are all to be forgotten. 

And I fear my death is coming soon. 

When my statue shatters into a thousand pieces-- then what? There are only so many chances they’ll give me. 

Did I think I was the only one in the world stuck with this cruel fate? No. But how ridiculous would it be if all statues lead the same life as I did, if they came alive when the rest of the world was asleep in search of something, all to return to their static state. 

Becoming conscious that you were a statue was unpleasant. And, unfortunately, it was common for me. You held a breath you couldn’t let go, your limbs ached, your eyes stung and threatened to water but there were no tears, the stone that settled on your skin was irritating. But the temporary discomfort was worth it, as it meant I was visiting you. 

If I settled into the numbness for a few seconds, I could feel myself fall through the veil that separated you and the human world-- and by the time I open my eyes, I’m laying in a soft field of flowers, and you’re by my side. 

You were my only companion. And I was yours. 

I could keep my memories alive by sharing them with you, and you had someone to banter with. 

_ I’m Yeonjun.  _ Were the first words I heard as I sat up. The grass was rough between my fingers, and you were blocking the light. In your eyes was the first time I had seen my reflection. Blood and all feelings coursed through me again. 

It was foreign to me. I  _ felt  _ alive. I wasn’t actually-- physically I was still stone, in where I was. But it was close. 

The way you would caress my face, the feeling of your warmth against mine, the light brush of our hands-- the simple touches were enough to make us feel alive. Even momentarily.

When I told you my curse, you pitied me. You called it cruel.  _ At least I have all of this space, and I’m not petrified for two centuries straight. Two centuries! How could they cheat you at the last second each time?  _

I objected.  _ You have it much worse, hyung.  _

There was no light in your eyes. Trapped in a hell underneath the human world, all alone, flowers slowly blooming on your body and claiming you as one of their own. How you haven’t descended into madness is a mystery. With every passing century, you grow weaker, your one ‘wish’ wasted every time. 

You had your second death first. 

While I flourished in attention, you were kept in the dark. You had no chances to ever be truly alive. The world had never heard of your name. No one tried to keep your legacy alive. No one could hear you-- but me. 

What will become of us after we die,  _ hyung _ ? Where will we go? Are our human lives returned to us? Or does the curse continue? 

You mentioned ‘paradise’ all the time. More times in defeat than in hope. No matter how much beauty you were surrounded by, it would never hide the fact that your garden was a prison.  _ There’s a light at the end of the river,  _ you told me once,  _ that’s where we’ll meet again.  _

_ Is it the afterlife?  _

_ No. A lost paradise.  _ You corrected me.  _ The paradise that should have been… this place.  _

We never found that paradise. 

PART 2

“Tomorrow’s the day.” Taehyun said. They sat on the grass, like they often did, Taehyun’s two-hundred-year imprisonment coming closer to an end as the minutes passed. He framed a dark purple pansy with his hands. 

Thousands of the pansy flowers had driven out the violets before them-- some of them calming with their light purples, but there was a riot of vibrant, darker colours that followed wherever Yeonjun went. The brash yellows, purples and blues were hard to look at. 

“Don’t,” Yeonjun pulled his hands away. “Don’t associate yourself with the pansy flower. Especially when tomorrow’s the day. You don’t want to potentially jinx yourself.” 

As he said that, Taehyun noticed a dark pink carnation the size of his fist pierce through Yeonjun’s clothes and bloomed in the center of Yeonjun’s chest. The placement resembled a blood stain from a wound. 

Yeonjun no longer tore out his flowers. In the preceding centuries, Taehyun wouldn’t stop Yeonjun plucking the regular blue lobelias, but with where they were blooming on him now, too much blood would be lost. An inflorescence of white flowers from the yarrow plant sat on his shoulders, making Yeonjun wince every time he moved; a wreath of white and purple lilac chained around his neck, little beads of purple blood showing up where the thorns pricked his skin. 

“Hyun-ah,” Yeonjun started. “Do you want to break your curse?” 

“Of course I do.” Taehyun replied. “Tomorrow… I have a feeling about tomorrow…” He tapped his fingers on the ground. “Ah,  _ hyung _ , you’re making me nervous again--” 

“No, that’s not what I meant! Do you ever… wish you could lead a normal human life with Beomgyu? To wake up every morning next to your soulmate, to see the world and grow old together? To catch up on everything you’ve missed and never worry about falling back into your cycle?” 

Taehyun sat in silence for a moment. “ _ Hyung _ … why are you saying this?” 

“I want to help you get a chance to experience all that.” 

Taehyun looked over at him quickly. “What do you mean? I will get my chance,  _ hyung _ . We’ll both get our chance to experience the world. We promised!” 

“Take this.” 

He pressed a yellow daffodil into his hands. 

“A yellow daffodil.” Taehyun stated. “How did you get your hands on this flower? I’ve never seen yellow flowers all the times I’ve visited you.” 

“It was one of the first flowers that bloomed here.” Yeonjun scooted towards him, wrapped an arm around his shoulder and placed his head on top of his. Taehyun slid down slightly to lean his head on Yeonjun’s chest, avoiding the white flowers. 

Yeonjun brushed the yellow petals open with his thumb. There was a faint, purple scar on his thumb. “I held onto it. It’s magical how it’s still alive. But I think you need it more.” 

“No, no, don’t give something like this to me!” Taehyun objected. “You keep it!” 

“I want you to find Beomgyu tomorrow--” 

“I  _ will  _ find him tomorrow. I find him every time! It’s-- It’s just that-- we-- this is precious to you,  _ hyung _ ! Do you not see the value in this?” 

“I do, that’s why I’m giving it to you.” 

Taehyun moved away to look right into Yeonjun’s eyes. “ _ Hyung _ , you haven’t… You haven’t given up yet… have you?” 

There was no response. 

Taehyun set the flower down. “Use your wish, you have one tomorrow! Use it-- just ask-- 

“Have you ever asked to see the human world? Even just for a day? Something-- anything to give you a glimpse into the rest of the world?” 

“I’ve asked.” Yeonjun said shortly. “The next day, you came.” 

“ _ Hyung. _ ” Taehyun’s voice was shaking. His mouth moved away but no words came out. He wanted to shout at him for giving up, but something told him that Yeonjun knew what was coming, so there was no point in arguing. He hadn’t remembered what it was like to have his heart feel like it was being ripped out of his chest, or guilt clogging his throat, or the sinking feeling that came with saying goodbye until that day.

Taehyun wondered why he hadn’t picked up the signs earlier that day. He should’ve asked.  _ What have you done? Why did you give me a yellow daffodil, of all flowers? Why, and how, did you look so peaceful as you accepted your imminent death?  _

“Taehyun-ah, don’t argue with me… I’m tired.” Yeonjun sighed and leaned back on his hands. He closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the light, an inscrutable smile on his face. Flower veins took their opportunity to slither around Yeonjun’s finger and chain him to the ground, to which Yeonjun responded by yanking his hands free. “Something tells me that tomorrow will be the day you break your curse.” 

PART 3

It happened when the grey stone that held him upright melted away, causing him to lose his balance and fall onto the floor. He hit his head hard against the ground, and his eyes were peeled back— unable to blink yet, his eyes began to water. He made an effort to scrunch his face and relieve his facial muscles. 

Next, he had to make his limbs budge. 

He felt groggy— different from how he usually felt— the paralysis hadn’t even settled in. He didn’t feel sore, but more as though he had been glued to the ground. 

When his eyes adjusted to the dark, he knew where he was. 

Taehyun was no longer positioned in the middle of the gallery, no longer the main attraction, no longer placed on a pedestal above all. There was no place in the gallery for him at all. 

He had been discarded. 

They had moved him into a room of abandoned art waiting to be rehomed. In the landfill, in a lesser art gallery, in a place where their beauty and meaning could hopefully still be worshipped. 

_ How many days have I been here? Am I still in the same year? What if it isn’t the same museum?  _

It took all his might to twist his hand and press his palm onto the floor to lift himself onto his elbows. His bones cracked. Instead of gripping onto the rough surface, he had crushed something nestled in his hands. 

A flower. 

He brushed his thumb along the flower’s lines, followed the curve of each betal, and counted them as he went, until he realised that in his hands -- hands he had used to cup Yeonjun and Beomgyu’s face-- was a daffodil. 

He curled his hand into a fist, the flower squeaking in protest. Taehyun reached his arm back to force his knees to bend, and placed his feet onto the floor, the discomfort in his muscles reminding him they hadn’t been used in a while. 

It was only then did he realise why and how the daffodil fell into his possession, and why he was human again at all. 

_ Hyung _ . 

A tall, dark door presented itself as an exit for him. He rushed forward to open the door, but he was just able to balance on his feet again, so he grabbed onto the doorknob for support as he fell back to the floor. He turned it both ways, but to his dismay, it wouldn’t budge.  _ Fuck. _ He picked himself back up and threw his weight against the door several times. 

“LET ME OUT!” Taehyun shouted, rubbing his shoulder. 

He slammed his fist against the door, but all it did was cause pain to pulse through his knuckles. Taehyun let out a cry of frustration. 

“ _ HYUNG _ !  _ YEONJUNNIE HYUNG!”  _

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He put his forehead against the door. Beads of sweat ran down the side of his face, his heart raced, every scenario of what could have happened to Yeonjun worse than the last. 

But they all had the same outcome. 

Out the corner of his eye, he saw the outlines of a door frame in the dark. He pressed one hand against the wall to guide him, and as he approached the door, his foot accidentally kicked one of the portraits. It had been wrapped carefully. Taehyun reached down and picked it up, and touched the waxy, clear plastic. How he would hate to be suffocated like that. 

Throwing the portrait in his hands away, he continued to fling aside the art that formed a barricade in front of the other exit. He squinted to read the words on the sign attached to the push bar.  _ EMERGENCY EXIT ALARM WILL SOUND IF DOOR IS OPEN.  _

_ Tenth time’s a charm.  _

He forced the push bar down and shoved the door open.

Expecting to hear the museum’s shrill alarms’ screeches to torture his ears, his hands moved to cover them, and he squeezed his eyes shut instinctively. 

But the sirens never came. 

And instead of stepping into a dark, empty hallway, he returned to Yeonjun’s flower garden. 

  
  


The cold washed over Taehyun. The flowers were the same as when he left. The field was always packed, but its silence was deafening. It felt empty. A gust of wind caused the flowers to attack each other like a chime, and yanked purple petals off the pansies and sent them dancing through the air, and carried them out of sight. 

He quickly retreated when he heard twigs snap under his foot. He looked down to see a wreath. It sat in a pool of purple blood, and was a mess of a wreath, with bold flowers and twigs fighting for dominance. Like nature’s thorny, tangled crown. It was beautiful. But it was also unappealing to the eye. As if a king’s immorality had reflected on his only symbol of power. 

Picking it up carefully with two hands, Taehyun noticed it had been snapped off of the wearer’s neck. He held it up to his eyes, on the other side of the wreath were thorns that were covered in purple blood. Lifting the wreath revealed a stream of dark purple liquid. 

Taehyun’s eyes followed the small purple stream, watching it widen as a white stream joined it, and the purple colour grew small in comparison to the glistening white river. 

A figure came into focus in the distance. 

Taehyun dropped the wreath. 

Bound to a chair in the middle of the river was Yeonjun. 

He made his way slowly to the edge of the river, the pansies bent to glare at him, his shoes sticking to the wet ground, the coldness piercing his skin. 

“Hyung?”

_ Taehyun-ah.  _

Taehyun stared in horror at the sight. Vines had tied Yeonjun to the chairs, his throat was cut and blood ran down his neck onto his shirt, there were visible cuts on Yeonjun’s hands, and stains on his sleeves. Flowers peaked out of the open cuts. Taehyun could almost imagine how Yeonjun would have tore them out, most likely in panic depending on how large some of the stains were. 

_ Beomgyu sounded amazing in all the stories you told me. It hurt to see you cry afterwards. I would always hold you, and I remember swearing that I would do anything to never have you cry like that again.  _

Taehyun stepped into the cold white river, the water coming up to his knees, and trudged over to him. 

Perhaps it was the result of being impassive for too long that Taehyun didn’t know how to process it. Or to react. And maybe it was for the best. 

_ Don’t feel bad when you see me. I don’t know how grotesque I would appear, but it was bound to happen, and I didn’t want to leave this life without doing anything meaningful. _

Vines as thick as branches looped around every finger and both his wrists, little leaves protruding. 

Yeonjun’s face was cold when Taehyun reached one hand to brush his cheek. As the back of his fingers outlined his cheekbone, the bit of skin turned into grey stone.  _ Is this what you meant,  _ hyung _?  _ The colour was chased off of one side of Yeonjun’s face by the broadening patch of grey, but stopped once it crossed paths with the flowers and branches. 

Taehyun carefully balanced the wreath that was still in his hands on top of Yeonjun’s head, careful to not accidentally touch him any more. 

_ Thank you for keeping me company, Hyunnie, thank you for taking strolls with me along the river, thank you for giving me hope. Thank you for giving me a chance to get a glimpse of my lost paradise.  _

He stepped away and 

“Rest well, Yeonjunie  _ hyung _ .” 

The ground beneath him began to sink under his weight, and without protest, Taehyun let himself fall through and leave Yeonjun behind.

His knees took the impact of the fall as he slammed onto concrete. The dismal sky rumbled behind him, the heavy rain beat down on him through the open cieling, causing the marble beige tiles in the entrance of the museum to shine. The pillars on the side stood unaffected. 

The cold made him not only shiver, but pressed the emptiness down on him so far that Taehyun felt like it would stab through him. He dabbed the rain off his face ineffectively. 

Shivering, he sat back on his knees and stared blankly at the floor. 

_ I’m alive. _

It finally hit him. He was alive. He was human again. All of him was flesh and blood. He was no longer decoration, an antique, a work of art-- he was ordinary. The world was now his to explore, his to experience, his to take in. 

His days in nothingness had come to an end. 

But his liberation could not be celebrated. 

Yeonjun was gone. They existed in different universes now. There would never be a chance for Taehyun to ever see Yeonjun again. Not in this lifetime-- and possibly ever. 

Taehyun’s mind created vivid images of Yeonjun’s decay. The panic as he would have violently ripped all signs of death from his body, the fear as he was defeated, the misery as he slowly bled out and left the world. 

All of this for him. 

How horrible for  _ this  _ to be the first time Taehyun felt regret and grief. Why didn’t he catch on earlier? Why did he take his time with Yeonjun for granted? Why didn’t he ever think of helping Yeonjun? Why did it never occur to him that to lead a life with Beomgyu, he would be giving up one with Yeonjun? 

_ No. There was nothing you could have done to break Yeonjun’s curse.  _ A warm tear rolled down his cheek. A second one followed. A cry escaped, and Taehyun covered his mouth with both of his hands, incapable of comprehending what was happening to him. He didn’t understand how all the strength was drained, how the tortured cries that escaped his mouth, how he struggled to breathe and choked on his tears. 

_ “Taehyun _ ?” 

He lifted his head. Beomgyu was standing at the bottom of the steps, an umbrella in one hand, staring at him in awe. 

Taehyun watched his soulmate run up the steps to meet him, and throw his arms around him with such force that Taehyun nearly fell back. 

“You’re real, aren’t you?!” Beomgyu said breathlessly, gripping his face with both of his hands. “It’s really you? I’m not dreaming?! Taehyun, what happened? Oh, I thought you were really gone-- I was so confused and you weren’t there the next day, I kept coming back to find you hopefully and here you are-- I’m not dreaming anymore, right?--”

Taehyun nodded and buried his face into Beomgyu’s shoulder, sinking into his warm embrace, his wet clothes sticking them together, as he repeated the words over and over again to himself. 

_ I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive.  _

**Author's Note:**

> \- thank you so much for making to the end ! i hope you enjoyed this addition to the original work and i hope you continue to look forward to my future works <3  
> \- here is the twitter version with an edit : https://twitter.com/yvorejuns/status/1282626538135891970?s=20   
> \- much love <3


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